


Vertex

by silver_fish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, Family Fluff, Gen, Horcruxes, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentor Severus Snape, Mirror of Erised, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Torture, quote unquote amnesia, weird magical interactions and artefacts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22365298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_fish/pseuds/silver_fish
Summary: Harry had given up hope of ever getting his chance at a family long ago, years before he even got his Hogwarts letter. But when in the midst of the war against Voldemort he suddenly gets an opportunity to have the family that was always supposed to be his, he must face a difficult choice: Return to the war that has torn this family away from him, or hold on to his heart’s deepest desire?
Relationships: Harry Potter & James Potter, Harry Potter & Lily Evans Potter, Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	Vertex

**Author's Note:**

> my track record shows multichap fics aren't good because i take ages to update, but this one wormed its way into my head and wouldn't get out. i actually have no idea if this sort of premise is big in the fandom or not? i've read a couple fics with similar sort of functions, i suppose, but nothing like this, though i'm fairly certain i'm not the first to do it. all that to say, i really, really wanted to write a no voldemort au. so badly. i might still, but the wall i kept hitting was harry, specifically, and how living in a world with no voldemort would change him. kind of why i don't think i could do justice to a wrong bwl fic! but yeah, so, this is what i came up with! no updating schedule unfortunately, but i'll try to be prudent about it (without sacrificing quality!). all that to say: please enjoy!
> 
> p.s. the title has a bit of a double meaning, i suppose, but i will say i choose it for its relation specifically to mirrors. the other works too, though. reader interpretation, if you will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posted on: 09/02/20  
> unedited as of: 09/02/20

“May twenty-third,” Hermione declares, waving a copy of the paper about.

Harry looks up from the table in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, but doesn’t bother to ask where she got the paper from. Instead, he says, “We have to get to Hogwarts. It’s been months.”

Nearly an entire year, actually. Harry shudders at the thought, then turns to look at Ron, who appears deeply contemplative as he stares down at his tea.

“D’you suppose Snape had the Floo blocked?” he finally wonders aloud, turning to look up at them. “I mean, none of the rest of them know about Grimmauld Place.”

“As far as we know,” Hermione reminds them, sitting at the empty seat beside Harry.

“As far as we know,” Ron concedes.

“I think we ought to Apparate to Hogsmeade,” Hermione continues. “They’ll be expecting us, but if we’re strategic about it, that won’t matter.” She folds her hands over the table and glances between the two of them. “This is the end, right? You’re really sure there’s a Horcrux at Hogwarts?”

Harry nods. “He thinks about it all the time. There’s something else too, though, something he’s managed to hide from me… It must be the snake, Nagini. Dumbledore thought she might be one too, but You-Know-Who doesn’t know we know that, does he?”

Hermione lets out a long breath. “There are an awful lot of ‘if’s in that statement, Harry.”

“It’s all we have.”

She sighs. “True enough. So…how should we go about this?”

Thus, the twenty-third of May is dedicated to planning. And the twenty-fourth. For the next three days after, they go over it again and again, ensuring they are fully prepared. On the twenty-eighth, they put their plan into action.

They’ve gone through great pains to keep safe during the past year while still being productive in accomplishing Dumbledore’s task, but Harry thinks, sometimes, that they have been too slow, that this should have ended many months ago. Strategic risk-taking, Hermione cautions them constantly. If the pros of the risk don’t outweigh the cons, it’s too much of a gamble. And, all things considered, they simply can’t afford to lose anything else.

The Order has all but been destroyed. Small flickers remain, but through the papers they have managed to collect since August, they have learned of several deaths that had hit far too close to home for comfort: Remus Lupin, Bill Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks and her father, Ted. Hard as it had been to learn about them, they hadn’t been able to leave Grimmauld Place and risk getting killed themselves. Harry knows, as he’s sure Ron does too, that the deaths would be in vain if they aren’t able to complete their task.

And they have had their own wins, too. Remus had taken Bellatrix Lestrange down with him, as far as reports go. Bill’s association with the goblins, in the end, had been the other lucky factor that had allowed them to Bellatrix’s vault, when the security at Gringotts had been at its absolute lowest. Or, maybe it’s at its lowest now, with no one left to monitor things but the Death Eaters that took over after the bloody slaughter that had driven the goblins away and ended Bill’s life. Tonks had led a brave group of Aurors in a fierce rebellion against the Imperius’d Minister for Magic, and several less than savoury ministry figures had been incapacitated as a result.

If any of them think too much about the deaths they know about, or they ones they don’t, however, they will lose hope. So, they simply don’t. Still, Harry recalls being thirteen, learning the Patronus charm from Remus through hours of gentle and empathetic guidance. That part of him aches with grief, but there is another part of him that reminds him Remus is with his friends again, now, wherever they all are. That James and Sirius would have welcomed him to their afterlife with open arms, and maybe Lily, too, though it occurs to him sometimes that he really never _had_ had the opportunity to ask about the details of their interactions, both in school and out of it.

But as they set out for Hogwarts, he can’t think of any of that. Using the frayed shards of his poor Occlumency skills, he pushes those morose thoughts away. Today, he has to focus on getting into the castle. After that, well…he can only hope they’ll be lucky, as they have been with the other Horcruxes, Slytherin’s Locket conveniently being in Grimmauld Place upon their arrival and the cup in Bellatrix’s largely unguarded vault, a secret graciously passed on to them by one of the fleeing goblins. Goblins, as it turns out, don’t engage in war. Not unless they have been fired against first, in any case. In that regard, the Death Eaters had failed rather dramatically, but Harry’s hardly complaining, all things considered.

So, with four of the things out of the way, there are only—at least, Harry thinks, though he desperately hopes there are no more—two remaining. Something in Hogwarts, something, he suspects, to do with Ravenclaw. And the snake. It has to be, or else they just don’t know, do they?

Sometimes, Hermione grows frustrated with the amount of guesswork gone into all of this, but even she has to admit that Dumbledore had drawn most of his conclusions based on rather lacking evidence. Harry has a suspicion that his friends expected there were things Dumbledore had told him that he had never passed on to them, but they never wind up talking about it. Just as well, Harry thinks. He’s already pressed enough with not thinking about how many people have died in this war without being worried about some stupid fight with his friends on top of it all.

The other big surprise had been the Sword of Gryffindor. While Dumbledore had apparently willed it to Harry, they hadn’t been able to get it immediately. No, it was only once they had been in Grimmauld Place for a while that they one day miraculously found it, oddly, near the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black. Imbued with basilisk venom, it had been easy enough to dispose of the two Horcruxes they had found, and its convenient hiding place had reminded them that Phineas Nigellus could well be spying on them for Snape. After that, they had cast all sorts of warding spells around his portrait and the room it was bound to. As an extra safety measure, they had done the same thing with the other portraits. The strange mix of spells somehow managed to permanently silence the portrait of Sirius’s mother, evidence, as it were, that miracles really _do_ exist.

Early on the morning of the twenty-eighth, they stand together in the foyer of the house, going over the plan one more time.

“I’ll go to Honeydukes,” Ron says, pointing at himself. Then, at Hermione: “The Shrieking Shack.” And to Harry, “You’ll figure it out.”

Harry tries for a grin, but knows it is a feeble attempt at best. “Why do I feel like I’ve got the worst end of this deal?”

They both shoot him sympathetic looks.

“I wish there were a better way,” Hermione says, for the thousandth time, Harry’s sure. “I can’t help feeling something terrible is going to happen.”

“Paranoia,” Harry suggests. “So, if one of us doesn’t make it in, Ravenclaw, right? I’ll keep an eye on the Map, see who’s around. One of them might have an idea of what is, so we’ll have to ask. Luna, or Padma, or Terry Boot, I dunno… Just be quick about it. I have a feeling he’ll come as soon as he knows we’re in Hogsmeade, and somehow I doubt Snape’ll have any qualms about letting him in the castle…”

Ron and Hermione both nod, tense as he feels.

“All right,” he says. “Then, let’s go.”

This is all part of the plan, too. With a deep breath to steel himself, Harry steps outside and spins on his heel, imagining the streets of the village he once wanted nothing more than to visit with his classmates. Now, he deeply wishes he could be going anywhere else, but he knows it’s futile to think that way. This is the only way left. He has to do this, and not just because Dumbledore expected him to.

As soon as he lands, the wailing of wards sounds around him. He grimaces, but tells himself he was expecting this and draws his wand, watching around him cautiously. The sky is still mostly dark with the early hour, but the nearing of the summer solstice paints the lines at the horizon a soft pink, reminding him of the coming dawn.

As the wailing continues, doors begin to open and people step out on the streets. Pressed against the side of the nearest building—Zonko’s—Harry watches with growing dread as dark figures approach from either side of the village. These aren’t Death Eaters, though, that much is obvious. _Dementors_.

He lets out an uttered oath, then raises his wand and summons his Patronus, sending it to the right and then to the left. He thinks hard about how Ron and Hermione will be arriving soon, letting that knowledge keep his stag glowing fiercely amidst the gathering darkness of the dementors’ presence, and then—

 _Crack_.

As Harry watches, he sees multiple people Apparate onto the street. _These_ will be the Death Eaters, he knows, holding his breath. Well, this was all part of the plan, he reminds himself, and Ron and Hermione will be along soon…

Brandishing his wand, he steps out of his hiding spot, cutting off the Patronus and pointing at the nearest hooded figure. “ _Stupefy_!”

As the unsuspecting Death Eater falls, the others—four of them—turn to Harry, and then there are curses being flung left and right and he has no time to think, no time at all—

He ducks back behind the building again, heart beating fast, then peeks out from around it and sends off a non-verbal stunner, grateful, not for the first time, that Hermione has had them practicing their spell-casting diligently even away from school. He shoots off another, and another, most of them missing, and then turns and runs up the street, a familiar path leading up to the castle, dodging spells as the fly past his head.

Somewhere behind him, he hears more people Apparating into the village, and, feeling almost as though he is reliving his childhood experiences of Harry Hunting, runs even faster.

Someone will have summoned Voldemort by now, he thinks wildly. It won’t be long until the Dark Lord himself is coming for Harry. Thoughts clouded, Harry veers off the familiar path and ducks behind another building. Breathing hard but doing his best to hide it, he pulls his Invisibility Cloak from his pocket and swings it over himself. He waves his wand and casts a spell to mask the sounds of his footsteps under his breath, then cautiously sets off down the path he has turned on to, leading to the dingy pub they organized Dumbledore’s Army in, the Hog’s Head. He walks around the building, then catches sight of a back entrance. Casting an _Alohomora_ —surprised and gratified to find that it actually _works_ —he eases the door open and steps inside, closing it softly behind him.

As he turns around to face his surroundings, he finds himself behind the bar. After surveying the space and ascertaining that there is nobody else here, he takes the Cloak off and tiptoes around the counter. Well, he thinks wryly, it _could_ be a lot worse, but it probably won’t be long before he’s caught here if he can’t manage to get to one of the secret entrances to Hogwarts. They had considered that, maybe, the entrance from Honeydukes was closed off now, but it had been one of those situations where they ultimately decided to take the strategic risk. He can’t worry about Ron right now, though, not when he needs to a find a way to get himself up to Hogwarts first.

A noise around the corner startles him, and he lifts his wand, another stunner on his lips. As the source of the noise comes into view, though, he lowers it again, blinking hard. For a moment, he almost thinks to ask how _Dumbledore_ is here, but then he swallows the words back and thinks for a moment.

They’ve done all their research, of course, both about Dumbledore himself and, now, for this risky mission, about the various establishments in Hogsmeade. This is Aberforth Dumbledore, Dumbledore’s brother.

Harry doesn’t drop his wand hand completely, watching the old man carefully.

“Aberforth,” he says. “Right?”

“That’s right,” the man says gruffly. “Don’t need to ask who _you_ are, do I. You’ve caused quite the upset, Potter.”

Harry relaxes, just a bit. “I need to get to Hogwarts,” he says promptly. “I didn’t mean to, er, disturb you. I’ll be gone just as soon as I can get there. I don’t suppose you know a quicker way?”

He adds it mostly in an attempt to lighten the air, but Aberforth just continues to stare at him, in a way that, oddly, reminds Harry far more of Snape than Dumbledore.

“Never mind,” he says quickly. “I’m sorry for barging in. I’ll be—”

“I know a way,” Aberforth says suddenly.

“Huh?”

“To Hogwarts.” His tone is impatient, now. “Follow me, Potter.”

Aware that this could very well be some sort of trap, Harry keeps his wand up as he follows the old bartender. He doesn’t lead him into a group of waiting Death Eaters, though; instead, they come to a halt before a portrait of a young girl. Leaning forward, Aberforth says something to her that Harry can’t quite catch, and then she is turning around, walking down the path away from them.

“That’s your sister, isn’t it?” Harry says after a moment, remembering the stories and pictures he saw in Dumbledore’s memoir by Skeeter. “Ariana?”

Aberforth shoots him a sharp glance. “What’s it matter to you, boy?”

“I didn’t know,” he says. “About her, I mean.”

Aberforth’s lips thin out. “Well, not so that my brother cared, I expect.”

Having no evidence to the contrary, Harry can only nod in agreement. He’s thought many times since Dumbledore died that the man had kept too many secrets. Being his brother, he supposes Aberforth would know better than he does, anyway.

Neither of them speak after that, eyes fixed on the portrait. After some time, Ariana returns, but she’s not alone. Heart racing, Harry watches as the portrait swings forward and Neville Longbottom grins down at him.

“Harry! We knew you’d come back, we knew it!”

Pushing down the guilt he feels at that, very aware, suddenly, that Neville bears a lot of new scars, plain as day across his visible skin (Harry dreads to think what’s under his clothes), he tries for a smile.

“Good to see you, Neville,” he says, and it’s true. “So, er, this leads to Hogwarts?”

“The Room of Requirement,” Neville confirms. “You’re coming through, I take it?”

Harry nods, then glances towards Aberforth. “Er, thank you, Mr Dumbledore.”

Aberforth merely grunts in response. Knowing it won’t be long before Death Eaters are banging on the door, Harry takes that as an acknowledgement and steps up on the mantle to led Neville lead him through the tunnel.

“A lot has happened,” Neville tells him as they walk. “Lots of us are hiding out in the Room, because those Carrows…well, it’s just not safe to stay anywhere else anymore.”

“And Snape?”

“He doesn’t do much,” Neville admits. “Granted, nobody’s very pleased with him on the best of days, far as I can tell. Not quite like Umbridge, though. Guess he really is headmaster, since he can get into the office and everything.” He shudders. “Well, better him than the Carrows.”

Harry remembers the Carrows from the Astronomy Tower last year. They’re brother and sister, Amycus and Alecto. Nasty sorts. They’ve been in the papers a bit too, especially around September when the school year started.

“Deputy Heads, aren’t they?”

“That’s right,” Neville says. “One of them teaches Defence—it’s Dark Arts now, rather—and the other one teaches Muggle Studies. Well, I never took it, but I don’t imagine she’s done anything good to the class. Ah, here we are, then.”

Light suddenly filters through the tunnel towards them, and then Neville is crawling out of a hole much like the one they came through, into the Room, just as he said. Harry follows him, breathing easy for the first time in days.

Once they’re both out, the tunnel seals itself behind the portrait once again, and then Harry is surrounded by others, all of them shouting to be heard over the sudden din, jostling him around as they try to get close to him, as if they can’t believe he’s really in front of them.

“Quiet, now!” Neville calls. “Don’t crowd him, guys.”

Amazed, Harry watches as the crowd listens, quieting and stepping back, just a bit. He shoots a small smile in Neville’s direction, then looks to address the crowd gathered around him.

“We’re looking for something,” he says, apologetic. “I’d love to, er, stay and catch up, but this is important, and we can’t really wait. I don’t suppose any of you have seen Ron and Hermione?”

Unsurprisingly, none of them have.

“Right, then.” He shifts, uncomfortable. “Well, I need to, er, find them. If I can.”

All at once, the clamour resumes, and this time there is no hope of dampening it. Somehow, he manages to get across to them that, no, he can’t tell them exactly what _exactly_ he’s looking for, but, yes, it’s important, and yes, he _needs_ to find Ron and Hermione, or at least try to, but he’d like to get into Ravenclaw Tower because he thinks he’ll find what he needs there, if someone could please take him. He winds up, then, sitting by one of the walls with Luna, who has offered to be his guide whenever he’s ready to leave. For now, he has one eye on the Marauder’s Map while he engages with her. She has told him what she knows about Rowena Ravenclaw’s lost diadem, the object Hermione had eventually come across in a book and speculated _might_ be the final Horcrux, but it admittedly isn’t very much either. They’ll still need to do some hunting before they can ascertain its exact whereabouts, let alone if it really _is_ the Horcrux.

“So, you’ve been staying here?” he asks. “Neville said a lot of you guys weren’t able to leave here, really, anymore.”

She shakes her head. “The castle keeps me safe,” she says earnestly. “But sometimes, we all need a place to rest. There are usually Death Eaters in or around Ravenclaw Tower. It’s all very strange, but it makes it difficult to sleep at night, so…I prefer it here, but I do go back. Sometimes.”

“Nobody notices?”

“Well.” She hums, thoughtful. “I don’t think people often notice things they don’t care about.”

Harry nods in understanding, if not agreement. The Dursleys never paid him any mind, after all, but the second he re-entered the magical world, there has never been a moment where people _weren’t_ watching him. He wonders if one is really better than the other or not. He never went hungry because of fame, sure, but he never watched anybody die when he was locked up in the cupboard under the stairs, either.

“I don’t know what they’re trying to protect,” Luna continues. “But you do, don’t you, Harry? It’s why you’re here? I never knew Ravenclaw would be so important, but I suppose it only makes sense. You’re a Gryffindor, and You-Know-Who is a Slytherin, and Cedric Diggory was a Hufflepuff.”

Harry isn’t completely sure why any of that is relevant, so he just nods again.

“I’m glad I’m a Ravenclaw,” Luna says. “Our house ghost, the Grey Lady—do you know her? She’s very kind, Harry, but I think she’s a bit shy. People say she doesn’t talk much, but she’ll talk to us. She knows we’re the same, I think, so she doesn’t have to worry about people being mean to her… Though, I don’t think she should worry about that anyway. Maybe she doesn’t? I do suppose—”

But Harry doesn’t hear the next thing Luna says; his eyes are caught on the Marauder’s Map as he suddenly notices Ron and Hermione’s dots on the page. They’re heading towards Ravenclaw Tower, by the looks of things. They must think he’s already there.

A surge of adrenaline rushes through him and he hastens to his feet, grabbing Luna’s hand to pull her up as well.

“Let’s go,” he urges. “We have to go, Ron and Hermione won’t know there are Death Eaters in the tower.”

She smiles at him, quite genuinely. “Of course, Harry. You ought to put your Cloak on. I’ll be in trouble if anybody sees me taking you to Ravenclaw’s common room.”

Harry thinks that’s about the last thing either of them would be in trouble for if they were caught wandering the halls of Hogwarts right now, but he doesn’t say so, instead focussing on tossing the Cloak over him again. Once he is no longer visible, Luna leads him to the door of the Room of Requirement, and they step out into the corridors of the early morning. Curfew might be over by now, but if it is, it’s still too early for students to be up and about.

They walk by ghosts and teachers alike, but nobody seems to pay Luna any mind. She hums quietly to herself as they walk, a small skip in her step, as if they are heading towards something far more cheerful than they are.

As they descend the stairs from the sixth floor to the fifth, Harry spots his friends, flattened against a wall, wands drawn. They seem to be waiting for Luna, who comes into their view shortly thereafter.

Ron lowers his wand immediately, but Hermione keeps hers raised, as if she expects Luna to attack. If Luna is in any way perturbed by this, she doesn’t show it.

“Hermione! Ron!” She beams at them. “How nice to see you, though you’ll be a little late. I think they’re writing N.E.W.T.s starting on Monday, there will be no chance to catch up.”

Hermione sighs, dropping her wand. “Luna,” she says curtly. “What are you doing up so early? Curfew hasn’t even ended yet.”

“I’m heading to my common room,” she says seriously. “I suppose you’d like to come? You ought to be more cautious, though. They don’t take kindly to visitors in Ravenclaw these days.”

“How do you know where we’re going?” Ron asks suspiciously, gaining a sharp look from Hermione in response.

“Why, Harry told me, of course. Come on, now. You want to meet up with him again, don’t you?”

Harry almost laughs as his best friends both look baffled, briefly, and then they grin and nod, relieved, and Hermione raises her wand again to Disillusion them. She’s been practicing the spell for months, just for this moment, and is able to make them more effectively invisible than she ever has done before.

“Perfect!” Luna looks positively delighted. “This way, then.”

And after that, she speaks no more, her three invisible companions trailing her as she merrily wanders down the corridor, until they wind up at a spiralling staircase. She climbs it with clambering footsteps, likely to cover up any sounds Harry, Ron, and Hermione might be making. They come to the door of Ravenclaw’s common room, but are stopped by the presence of a large, rather foreboding woman.

“What’re you doing, girl?” she demands.

Luna tilts her head, as if thoughtful. “Just getting to bed,” she says seriously. “My, it’s quite late, isn’t it?”

“Curfew is nearly over,” the woman tells her. “You should’ve been in bed hours ago.” She narrows her eyes. “Why, you’re that Lovegood girl. Thought you’d gone missing, like those other degenerates!”

Harry holds his breath, heart hammering in his chest.

“No, ma’am,” says Luna. “I do get lost sometimes, though. It’s such a big castle. I’m afraid I lost track of time while I was studying, and then the staircases moved around on me. They have a sort of pattern, did you know? Apparently, they shift differently this early in the morning. Since I’m not usually out at this time, I’d had no idea. Should I go get Professor Flitwick?”

The woman hesitates a moment, then shakes her head. “No, you’d better not. Well, go on, then, get in, if that’s what you’re here to do.”

Luna smiles. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She steps aside to let Luna tap the bronze knocker against the door, and then she waits until the eagle on it opens its mouth and suddenly asks, “If you drop me I’m sure to crack, but give me a smile and I’ll always smile back. What am I?”

Luna ponders this for a long moment, wherein the woman who has been guarding the door steps back and turns around to survey the stairs again. She seems to mutter something to herself, but whatever the words are wind up being lost before Harry can hear them as Luna finally answers, “A mirror.”

The door swings open, and Harry steps in ahead of Luna before the other three follow and the door swings shut again. He only gets a short moment to look around before he sees someone else standing near the fireplace. Though the room is thick with shadows, his platinum hair seems to make him an illuminating spectre, and, blood going cold, Harry recognizes him even before he steps out of the shadows.

“Why, good evening, Miss Lovegood,” says Lucius Malfoy, smiling a terrifying sort of half-smile. He leans against his cane and watches her with deep interest. “I was rather expecting to see someone else come through that door just now.”

“Were you, sir?” asks Luna, seemingly unbothered.

“A friend of yours, I have heard. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him, now have you?”

“Well, sir.” She pauses, thinking. “I have many friends. You might need to be more specific.”

He bares his teeth at her. “Harry Potter,” he snaps. “You are aware, of course, that as per the rules established by the board of governors and the headmaster himself, any student caught helping Harry Potter will be expelled immediately? That their wands will be snapped?” He leans closer, leering at her. “But I will cut you a deal, Miss Lovegood. If you tell me now where he is, I will personally see to it that no such fate becomes you. Do you understand?”

“That’s a very enticing offer, Mr Malfoy,” Luna says politely. “But given that I haven’t seen Harry since the end of last school year, I don’t think I can help you.”

For a moment, Harry almost thinks he believes her. And then he laughs. It’s a horrible laugh, that of a crazed man about to commit one last desperate attempt to achieve his ultimate act of treachery, and Harry knows, suddenly, that Lucius has simply been buying time, that Harry’s presence has been obvious to him since they stepped into the common room only minutes ago.

He flings the Cloak off himself and cries out, “ _Stupefy_!” at the same time as a voice behind him intones, “ _Petrificus Totalus_!”

His body stiffens and he falls to the floor as Lucius Malfoy crumples before him. Luna scrambles away, raising her wand up to whoever has hit Harry, but soon the same voice is saying, “ _Crucio_ ,” and she drops her wand, falling back in a terrible twist of limbs and begins to scream.

It’s over in seconds, but Luna remains on the floor, breathing hard. She reaches a feeble hand towards Harry, but the caster of the spell steps on her hand and she cries out again as the sound of breaking bones rings through the air.

“Well,” she says, giddy, as she leans over Harry to get a good look at him. “Who knew it would be so _easy_?”

But as soon as the words leave her lips, she is toppling forward too, having received a Stunner in the back.

“ _Finite_ ,” Hermione mutters, and Harry lets out a gasp as his mobility returns to him. Rushing to his feet, he looks around wildly, expecting more Death Eaters, but other than Lucius Malfoy and the woman who had been guarding the door outside—Alecto Carrow, Harry surmises now, looking at her unconscious form—the common room is completely quiet.

“How did he know?” Hermione mutters. She’s no longer Disillusioned, and is pacing in front of Ron who is similarly wholly visible again. “The Disillusionment Charm? But he didn’t seem to know we were here too…”

“I think it was just too much of a coincidence,” Harry reflects. “We need to do something about these two and then search the tower. If they knew, they probably summoned him already, so—”

“But it’s so _strange_ ,” Hermione insists. “There has to be something else, something we’re missing, some kind of spell. Oh, _Luna_ ,” she says suddenly, eyes widening. “My God, they—they would do this to _students_?”

Luna has managed to sit up now, cradling her mangled hand close to her chest. “Yes,” she says quietly. “It’s why so many of us left. Neville…” She shakes her head. “Never mind. They’ve been guarding Ravenclaw like this all year, you see. They must have known you would want to come here.”

“But only two of them?” Hermione glances at Harry, eyebrows furrowed. “Voldemort himself ought to be here by now, you were spotted in Hogsmeade at _least_ an hour ago. Whatever’s in this tower…” She stops again, horrified realization dawning on her face. “It’s a trap, it must be! He doesn’t trust Malfoy, not after the Ministry, it has to be something—”

“We’re here now,” Harry says firmly. “Let’s just look around, try to get some hints. Luna, are you okay?”

She nods. “I’ll help you,” she says. “There are all sorts of places to hide things around here, you know…”

And so it is that she leads them throughout the common room. Harry keeps his Cloak on, but he can’t help but think that something is still…off. After a while, he stops, blinking, and grabs at Ron’s arm.

“There’s no one else here,” he says quietly.

Ron looks to him oddly, though his eyes are a few inches off from where Harry’s face really is. “Yeah, I know. It’s pretty early—”

“Someone should’ve heard,” Harry cuts in. “Someone would have. There’s nobody here except for us.”

Luna turns to look at them now, frowning a bit. “Is something the matter?”

“Where are your housemates?” Ron asks her.

“Oh.” She seems to think about it for a moment. “I’m not sure, really. Professor Snape came by quite some time ago and ushered everyone out.”

“How long ago?” Hermione looks downright fearful.

“An hour or so, maybe.”

Harry’s heart seems to stop in his chest. He knows Luna, he thinks wildly. Knows her well, has known her for years. She fought with him at the Ministry, she was there for him after Sirius died, she—

“You knew,” Hermione whispers, horrified. “Luna, you _knew_ —”

“I’m sorry,” Luna says, and she _sounds_ it, even as she holds Hermione’s gaze steadily. “I really am, for all of it. But what she just did to me…my father…”

“I don’t understand,” Ron says slowly. “What did you do, Luna?”

“I won’t ask for your forgiveness,” she says. Suddenly, she seems very unlike herself. There is a cold distance in her eyes, something forged through a year of hideous war that none of them can say they don’t understand. “They’re waiting outside the common room. They already know the diadem isn’t here.” Her face contorts with pain. “They told me he’s dying, but that—that they wouldn’t kill you, Harry, they told me—” And, just like that, she begins to cry. Taking a deep, gasping breath, she continues: “They made a _vow_ , they promised, I saw it all—”

“Who made a vow?” Hermione demands. “Didn’t they make it to you?”

“You-Know-Who,” she gasps out. “You-Know-Who promised Snape—”

“Snape!”

“—He promised Snape he wouldn’t kill Harry, and he promised Snape he would let Daddy go!” She takes a few halting breaths, trying to bypass the sobs that punctuate her speech. “I don’t know what’s happening, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness—I’m sorry, Harry, I’m so sorry.”

But Harry’s mind is moving faster than Luna’s words are. Voldemort made a vow to Snape, promised not to kill him, _Harry_ —to Snape? Snape, who surely wants him dead as much as Voldemort does—but, no Voldemort clearly _doesn’t_ want him dead, not if he’s making promises like that—

“Can we get out another way?” Hermione is asking, voice high and frightened.

“The windows, maybe,” Ron suggests. “We could probably scale down the tower—”

“No!” Luna looks up, eyes wide and bloodshot. “No, you can’t, they’ll kill him, you don’t understand! Please—please, he’s all I have left—you can’t—”

Harry removes the Cloak, handing it silently to Ron before taking a cautious step towards Luna.

“They have your father,” he says as her frightened eyes search his.

She nods.

“They’ll kill him if I get away?”

She nods.

“What sort of vow did he make with Snape?”

“An…an Unbreakable Vow.” She shudders. “I…I had thought—Snape, he requested I come to his office one day, a…about a month ago, and he told me that the Death Eaters had had my father in captivity for—for a while, now, since I got back from Easter break, and…and he said they were going to kill him, but—if I—if I helped You-Know-Who when—whenever you came back to Hogwarts, he would—Snape would do whatever he could to…to make sure my father was released, alive. I told him no, but he said that You-Know-Who doesn’t want you dead anymore and…and he convinced me, after a while. I’m sorry, Harry,” she says miserably. “I thought maybe I could—could warn you, and then—we could help you, after they had taken you, but I don’t think—I can’t—”

He offers her a small smile. “It’s okay,” he tells her. “It’s all right, Luna. I understand.”

“Harry!” Hermione and Ron both sound upset. He pays them no mind.

“Will you help Ron and Hermione find the diadem?” he asks.

She nods quickly. “Anything, I’ll do anything, Harry, I _will_.”

“Good. Then, you two should hide here and—”

“You _can’t_ , Harry!” Hermione grabs his arm and tugs it harshly, forcing his eyes to her. “It’s not worth it! The prophecy—”

“Says one of us will die,” he says firmly. “And he’s already guaranteed it won’t be me.”

“Dumbledore—”

“Gave me his mission, and now I’m giving it to you. _Listen_ , Hermione, if you find the diadem and kill Nagini, it’ll be over. And I won’t just let them _take_ me—the whole DA knows I’m here and are on our side. If I _do_ get captured and one of you can’t find me, one of them will. All right? We can’t just let Luna’s dad die, not if there’s a way to save him.”

“I hate your stupid morals,” she informs him tearfully, but her grasp on his arm is lessening.

Ron frowns, looking down at Harry’s Cloak and then up at Harry again. “We will come for you, though,” he says firmly. “I don’t care what it takes, if those bastards get you—”

Harry nods sharply. “I know. But go—go hide, wait until they’re gone, they only know I’m here, seems like, so—”

Before he can finish, the door is opening, and with a short oath, Ron throws the Cloak over himself and Hermione and they disappear just as three new figures step into the room.

Harry grins, raising his wand up. “Well?” he jeers. “Think you want to try to take me too?”

The three Death Eaters—each of them masked, Harry notes—spring into action immediately. Behind him, Luna has fallen to the floor, sobbing as she tries to protect her injured hand. He ignores her in favour of Disarming one of the Death Eaters, who has moved towards Alecto’s prone body as if to bring her back to consciousness.

“Fight me yourself!” Harry demands as he catches the Death Eater’s wand. Tucking it into the pocket of his robes, he ducks as a Stunner flies over his head. _Not green_ , he notes. They’re not trying to kill him, only catch him. Harry Hunting is familiar territory for him, he finds himself thinking again, grinning. He makes a mental note to thank Dudley if he ever sees him again.

He sprints past them, exiting the common room in record time. Another Death Eater, positioned just outside the door, starts as he runs by, but seems to be too caught off guard to immediately attack. He continues down the stairs, then races through the corridor, ducking and twisting to avoid spells that fly past him.

He has no destination in mind as he runs, and only when he turns a corner and runs flat into something solid that he stops.

“Potter!”

He looks up, wand raised, to see Snape. But the man only seems surprised to see him, and for a moment Luna’s story runs through his mind again— _You-Know-Who promised Snape_.

Before he can do anything to get past the man, someone is yelling, “ _Incarcerous_!”

There is no hope of dodging it; ropes rise to bind his wrists and ankles together, and his wand clatters to the floor in front of Snape only just before he loses his balance and does the same. Snape reacts immediately, stooping low to grab and pocket his wand, but as he rises, he pauses near Harry’s ear and says, “Do not fight this, Potter. You will get out.”

And then he straightens and looks past Harry to see the Death Eaters who have been following him.

“Excellent, Severus!” one of them says gleefully. “The Dark Lord is waiting for us—”

“Best not to say much more than that,” Snape drawls. He points his wand at Harry, who, despite Snape’s words, most certainly _is_ fighting it, and conjures a blindfold over his eyes. And then someone casts something else on him, a spell he doesn’t recognize, and he suddenly finds he can barely even wiggle his toes, let alone worm his way out of the ropes. He isn’t in a Full Body Bind, though, he knows that; he can still use his mouth.

“He can’t even come after me himself?” he asks loudly. “You’re all following a bloody coward—”

“Or perhaps,” Snape interrupts in that blood-boiling silky, quiet voice, “he merely knew you would be so easy to capture that he didn’t feel it was necessary to waste his energy on doing it himself. I assure you, Potter, you never would have made it out of Hogwarts, no matter who was helping you. You should have expected so, the second you were spotted in the village. But,” he says, and Harry can just _see_ the sneer on his face, even with his vision obscured, “I suppose it is simply too much to ask perfect Potter to use _common sense_. Well?” he barks suddenly. “The Dark Lord will not appreciate you wasting time here!”

The Death Eaters behind him all hasten to get Harry up, one of them holding his arm so tightly it will surely leave bruises. He struggles against it, but to no avail. Whatever spell has been cast on him is quickly exhausting him, and as he’s forced forward, he finds his chest heaving with the effort of staying upright, even with people on both sides of him to make it so.

He has no idea how far they make it before he loses the battle. He stumbles a few times, but is forced to stay on his feet until a staggering dizziness overcomes him and he no longer can. The Death Eaters hold him up on both sides, then, but he barely even notices the feeling of being carried by his arms. His eyes flutter beneath the blindfold, the world falls to silence, and he is succumbed to his fate.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated! xx


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